LilySlim - Weight loss

Friday, February 28, 2014

A Bad Feeling...Confirmed

I submitted my HSA claim reimbursement on February 20th, late in the evening, via fax, and have been waiting on the direct deposit to pay the balance of my surgeon fees ($1,000).  I've been obsessively checking my account for the last three days because typically a claim is processed in 5 - 7 days, at least that's been my experience with the monthly claims I've been making.

So I finally got all set up and logged into the insurance company's website, and last night I sent an email asking "Hey, what's up with my claim?"

I need it in such a timely fashion I've been hoping and praying it didn't get fucked up. All the other claims have gone smoothly with a few minor denials such as "unable to read document" for a receipt or whatever. But there's been this sick feeling in my gut since I sent it, knowing how badly I needed for it to go right, that it was going to get cocked up.

Self-fulfilling prophesy? You create your own reality? I leave it to the philosophers. But yes, it's fucked up. I got an email back from them this morning saying they had "no record of your claim."

Of course.

So it turns out you can file a claim online and save me the fax charge (which with is only .99 cents regardless of how many pages you send), AND get a confirmation email that they have received my claim. So I resubmitted it and did get a confirmation email that it had been received.

But what's weird about this, is that I sent a fax about 30 minutes prior to my claim on the 20th requesting that my direct deposit go to a different bank account I have, and they received that and updated my information. But they didn't get the actual claim. Huh.

So here's the alternative. Today is payday for R. We can not pay any of our bills (except the rent) and send the surgeon's office a money order for $1,000- and wait on the reimbursement to pay the bills, OR we can hope and pray like hell that the reimbursement comes before the 7th, the deadline (and the office already called and asked about it this week). I'm just waiting for R to get home to talk to him about it. And dammit.

Of all the times to fuck up, it had to happen now. Ugh.

Deep breaths.

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Support Groups

As a rule, I am not a joiner. When I was in college from 05 - 08, I joined several groups primarily to have things to put on my CV or resume. Really. One of the groups spent so much time screwing around at their meetings that I usually had to leave before they were over as I often had to catch the last bus without them ever getting down to business of the club.

When I got cancer, I didn't join any support groups. I connected with a few people online, and joined a Facebook group for my particular cancer (ocular, or eye), and although I try to cheer on people doing well and be supportive of those not doing well, I wouldn't exactly say I'm an active member.

I belong to a DS group on Facebook, but it's not real active.

I also don't belong to a church of any kind. Mostly because I hate getting up early on Sundays (and I'm not a Christian so churches I would be interested are few and far between).

I have little to zero tolerance for fool and idiots.There's always one PITA in every group who wants to ask "what if" questions that require one to have a crystal ball to answer them. I have no patience for that.

I've stayed off for about eight years when I realized I'd became obsessed with reading all the posts and finding out as much as I could about WLS and post-surgery life. I almost lost my job spending too much time on there at work. So I quit that cold turkey. I started visiting in recent months but I just don't see anything of value for me. It seems a little...cliquey, and again, I am not a joiner. Also? Everyone has advice an opinions, and the only advice I'm going to take is from my doctor. Period. surgeon offers various support groups throughout central and southern California, and so I decided to go to the monthly one in my area (a 140 mile round trip) tonight. It wasn't what I was expecting. It was more of an informational meeting for people wanting to learn about WLS and the various procedures. After the doctor left to do an appendectomy, the nurse started talking and there was a woman there who was four months post-op, and she had her surgery at the same place I'm having surgery, and her health has improved dramatically. Even her carpal tunnel syndrome and lactose intolerance have resolved. She's a happy woman and so is her husband. She gave me some good information and the nurse also answered a couple of questions I had about vitamin supplements. So was it worth all that driving and gas money? Not really. I may go again next month if I'm up for it post-surgery (providing I am post-surgery) and see if they do anything differently.

On the real bummer side, on our way down, a voicemail popped up on my cell phone. While R was at a truck stop restroom, I checked it. Well, the surgeon's office called yesterday at noon. Why I didn't get the voicemail before then is beyond me, except perhaps my phone is approaching two years old and I've noticed it having some problems in assorted areas (like taking 5 days to download an app. WTH?). Since it was after 5 o'clock when I got the message, I couldn't call. I can't imagine what it's about. The person who called is not someone I've dealt with before. I'm trying not to freak out over why they're calling. I already sent them a big pile of money....are they wondering where the rest is? Are they rescheduling? Did my insurance change their ever-loving minds!!? I can't imagine what it might be. I'm strung as tightly as a Stradivarius right now. I'm setting my alarm to call them at 9am. They should be open by then.

Also? My HSA reimbursement has not arrived. They usually take around seven days after claim submission, and it's just hitting that mark now. I'm really counting on that money to finish paying off the doctor and pay for a few nights of hotel near the hospital. Ack. I'm stressing, man. I'm stressing I tell you. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wan this surgery to happen and be behind me. This is almost worse than the six weeks I had to wait in between my eye surgery and the radiation therapy. I knew that effer was in there growing the longer I waited and I wanted it dead. This is nearly that bad, but not as scary as cancer, of course. I guess I have a lot of anxiety since eight years ago I got to within four days of surgery before my insurance co pulled the rug out from under me. I'm going to be a mental patient until it's done and I'm limping down the hallway of the hospital in my bathrobe.

OMG, I'm going to go nuts. I swear. Nuttier. Whatever.

G*d grant me the serenity not to freak the HELL OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Here's my post-blood draw arm today. They always look worse before they get better.
click to embiggen.

Monday, February 24, 2014

Pre-Op Labs are Done

I overslept--of course--because I was up late burning the midnight oil to finish a project before surgery, then I read a few chapters of a book I'm enjoying and, well, it was after 4 am when I got to sleep. Why fight it? I'm a night owl.

But I got over to the lab before 2 o'clock, and took my Kindle fully expecting to wait a long time, but it was actually very quick. I think I was there at most an hour. I had to have what looked to be five or six vials of blood taken. Let me count the tests the surgeon wants....ten blood tests, a urinalysis, an EKG, and a two-view chest x-ray. All done. Bam.

Now my veins like to hide in my arms. When I was seated into the lab after registering, the nurse who looked up at me not only looked like my ex-husband *gak* but he had a look that said "I'm overwhelmed." I know they hire a lot of interns from a local nursing school, and they're usually good, but this one made me feel a little apprehensive just by the lost look on his face. I was praying I wouldn't get him, but of course, I did.

He was very nice. I told him my vein problems, he felt around on my left arm and said he found a vein, and he went for it, and he had to dig around in there just a little bit, not too bad, I've certainly had worse (or the worst yet, the hand. Ow that hurts. Glad we didn't have to go there.) Then the blood started slowing down as the vein started to...collapse (?)...and he dug around a little more and I started doing relaxing breathing exercises on tube no.5--you can hear them pop when they pull it of the syringe--then it was over. I looked over too soon--I close my eyes for any venipuncture--and the needle he used was HUGE and there was a large amount of very dark blood beading up on my inner elbow and I had a very vampiric moment there for a bit. Ugh. But he put a cotton ball on it and asked me to hold it, and it eventually stopped bleeding. He only blew it out a little, there's a small pale bruise with a bright red center where he stuck me and some blood leaked out of the vein inside the arm under the skin. Like I said, I've had worse, and hopefully it helped him become a better phlebotomist. I usually like the gray hairs to do my draws: they know exactly what they're doing, but sometimes one can't be fussy.

He also did my EKG. I got to keep my bra on for that one, although some of the electrodes go under the was weird letting a strange man touch my body. I guess it was because he looked like my ex, whose name also started with an R but went by a nickname that started with an S. It felt a little like cheating even though it was just medical stuff. But he really did remind me of my ex. Although I'm pretty sure this guy is gay. :-) That made me relax quite a bit.

So everything is done, then next week I see my doctor and she'll fax everything over to the surgeon (and give me a copy *ahem*), and then we should be good to go. I'm going to email the nurse on Monday and advise her to look out for those records and if she doesn't have them by close of business to shoot me an email and I'll go back over on Tuesday and linger in the damn lobby until it's done if I have to. I am not fucking around here. Not anymore. Do it right or I'll come down like Thor's hammer. Politely, of course.

I'm slowing down a bit on the food-shoveling into my mouth. Things just don't taste good anymore. It's like having five cigarettes in a row--they didn't taste as good as you're going to feel after (phlegmy, coughy, and your mouth and body will smell like an ashtray). It's enough sometimes. Just...stop.

I haven't had a cigarette in 7 1/2 years, and although I sometimes think about it, and often wish I could light up, I don't. I can't. It will initiate bronchitis within 24 hours. I thought about trying those electronic cigarettes, but then I thought "what's the point? I've already kicked the habit..." LOL

My mom still smokes. Almost 74-years-old and she still smokes. Last time I saw her I almost asked her to bum one. Old habits die hard.

Thursday I see the gynecologist and we start a plan for my leaky, anemia-inducing vagina. Good times.

Yeah, it's a little bluish-green around it. Click to Embiggen

Saturday, February 22, 2014

It Begins

It's started already. The changing thing. How I said a few weeks ago how this surgery would change EVERYTHING.

I've just been to Target tonight. My husband wanted to look at costs for Android and iPhones for pay-as-you-go phones. He has not had nor wanted a contract with a cell phone carrier since one pulled a stunt on him several years ago. (Hold a grudge much? LOL).

So I started wandering around figuring the exercise would be good for me. I went straight to the "Plus Size" ladies clothing department. I've found over the years that I can get some really good deals in their clearance racks. I mean $5- and under for sweaters, T-shirts, and other things.

I live in a yoga pants. I have a black pair and a navy pair. The navy pair is too big but I bought them because they were $5- and for schlubbing around the house too big is fine. But the black pair I wear everywhere. And I got some kind of glue or clear finger nail polish on it and it left a perfect circle of hard, plasticky whatever./Last week, I picked at it until it just....popped off, so I have a perfectly round hole on the left thigh. *sigh* I could sew it, but it will look puckered. I may just so it won't run.

Anyway, I say this because I was in the market for some new yoga pants and a pair I had seen a few weeks earlier at Target were now 30% off. I picked them up, looked at the price, decided that I was willing to pay $15- for some everyday black pants and dangled them over the cart, and then paused. I remembered. Surgery (if all stays on schedule) is in three weeks. I won't need size "4" (Target's size 26) after surgery. Buying pants that may be too big by May is stupid and a waste of money.

I put them back on the rack.

It's the small, subtle things like this that ring home for me that my life is about to change dramatically.

I wish it would hurry up and get here.

Thursday, February 20, 2014


Let's face it. No matter how hard we try to deny, deny, deny that we're not vain, we're not concerned about our looks, we're having surgery to improve health (which is also true, and primary), there is going to be a little satisfaction about looking well, what social mores say is "better", i.e., thinner and therefore more beautiful.

I had nearly convinced myself that I was only worried about excess skin and not appearance, only improved health. And then I saw this photo of myself as I was moving pictures onto a storage device. Ack!

I took this photo because I thought my hair looked so funny after just getting up. And it does look funny. But I look at my puffy, swollen, face from 30+ pounds ago (July 2010) and I just think...UGH. "I had no idea I was that fat (overweight)." I really didn't. 

I looked at some other pictures of myself, some more recent, some two years ago, and I think...."dayum; I'm fat." My internal self-image does not look anything like my real self. It was shocking, to say the least, especially now that I'm down a few pounds. I think I clean up real well, and my face looks more angular, now. And I like that look.

I'll be doing before and after and during photos along this journey...of course...but some of my reaaalllly overweight pictures are already on this computer. I hope I never get that heavy again.

In other only male cousin was admitted to ICU in the state he lives in, Kentucky, last night with what is presumably a heart attack since he's waiting to have a heart catherization [sp]. I'm waiting by the phone to hear.. He's been obese and super-obese most of his life. If I had to guess, he's now between 400 and 500 pounds. Diabetic, triglycerides of 3,000 (not a typo 3K), etc. He's years older than I am. THIS is why I'm having surgery. To hopefully avoid this scenario. I've talked to him over the years about WLS, but he never seemed interested. I even once challenged him to a Weight Watcher's diet to see who would lose the most, but he didn't even respond to my email. It all goes back to the 2008 presidential election. He sent me a racist email pertaining to now President Obama, and I wrote him back that I found those types of emails racist and offensive and to please not send me any more. Evidently he got all bent out of shape and even refused to meet with me and my husband when we were in Kentucky in 2009. 

Still. I am worried about him, and I care what happens to him. I hope he will be all right. He's had a hard life. Granted, some of the choices he made weren't helpful, but he otherwise was handed some very difficult life-shit. His father being a class A asshole for one. A father who was murdered during a drug deal about 20 years ago. Super nice guy. NOT. Regardless. If he survives this, I hope it will be an epiphany for him and he will consider the WLS to not only improve his health and life, but to live.

I am getting more and more excited as the days go by. Let's. Do. This.
Now that I've put down a big chunk of change--it finally feels real. It's real. It's going to happen barring any unforseen's finally happening. OMG.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Stress Eating? No, it's Panic Eating

I'm shoving things in my mouth that I haven't eaten in years. Just in case, you know, that I never get to eat it again. *panic* It's a ridiculous pathology, but I'm going through it and trying to deal with it the best that I can, which is to say not well.

I've eaten pastries from Starbucks, Italian subs, raisin toast with butter, cinnamon muffins (4--in one day), pancakes, eggs, bacon and sausage, chocolate, you name it, it's going into my mouth.

I'm sure other pre-WLS patients have done this. I've read about "last meals" or "last suppers". Mine is more like a buffet. An ongoing buffet.

I'm sitting here now, typing this, thinking about what can I eat next? And I'm not thinking about roasted cauliflower, knowhatImsayin'?  *exhale* It's hard to be this dysfunctional over food. That's why the surgery. In addition to my lifetime of yo-yo dieting that screwed up my metabolism, and the diabetes, I'm out of options. I figure I've got another 10 years, and not good years at that, before a heart attack or stroke takes me out or incapacitates me. Remember Luther Vandross? He was a diabetic. He had a stroke and was in a nursing facility for years before he died. I'd rather die than endure that, although I would probably get a lot of reading done--at least if my mind wasn't blown out.

I'm trying to live longer. A heart attack or stroke may still be in my future, there are no guarantees, but I will reduce the risk by having this surgery.

In the meantime, I think I just need to eat through these panicked feelings and get it out of my system. No regrets.

Then, when R gets paid, I'm getting a new bathrobe and some slippers for the hospital. Pink. We'll be paying for travel expenses and hotel costs by...not paying any bills except the rent for March. That's how we're going to do it. Whatever it takes. We'll be paying a lot less for food in the future, that's for damn sure.

R's mom wants me to come down on the 5th and stay until surgery, recover at their house, and then they'll drive me home. Uh, no. Not going to happen. I'm considering driving down on the 13th, staying at my mom's, seeing the doctor and doing pre-admit at the hospital on the 14th, then getting a hotel for my mother and I and R who is driving down after work, and I need to be checked in before 3pm to start the bowel cleanse (fun!). And then once I'm released from the hospital, I plan on staying at another hotel near the hospital in case of emergency. I don't know how I'm going to tell his parents this, but that's what I want. I hope my mom will stay with me that week. If he okays it, then I'll drive myself back home. If not, R will have to take the train down, pick up me and my mom, and take her and then me home in our van that I'll have driven down on the 13th. It's a lot of work, logistics.

I just hope and pray that the surgery is successful with few or no complications, that my lungs behave themselves, and that I check out on Monday the 17th *fingerscrossed*

Now if you'll excuse me, I need some more raisin toast.


I just paid 2/3rds of the program fee for the surgery

My dearest friend from high school, and who's done quite well for himself in real estate, phoned me on Monday as my husband and I were on our way home from his folks' house. He'd phoned to talk to me about a project we'd been collaborating on for well, several years now. After we got that all sorted out....I asked him for a loan. He said he could give me $1,000 no problem, but he wouldn't be sure until the end of the month whether he'd have more money or not. I said that was fine, I could get reimbursed by our HSA (health savings account) for it and then give it back to the doctor, and we'd have to come up with the final thousand, because our HSA would be tapped out by then.

He said he'd put a check in the mail that day. Wow.

Then my cell phone lost its signal as we headed into the mountains on the 5 freeway towards the Grapevine. For whatever reason, I can still send and receive texts. I think they operate off of satellite, not cell towers. Regardless, I sent him a text: "We're in the mountains. Call me back in one hour." And he said he would. And he did.

He then proceeded to tell me that he'd looked at his accounts, moved some money around, and was able to send me $2000-, and that he'd written the check and already put it in the mail.


I was breathless with excitement, relief, and gratitude all at once. R and I had been trying to figure out how to get the other $1,000 in the interim.

I thanked him, then we had a more personal conversation, talked some more about his project, and then we hung up. I drove home the rest of the way sort of...numb. Frozen almost. Like being in shock. Having the money suddenly made the surgery very real--it really was going to happen. (*fingerscrossed* that nothing untoward like flu or bronchitis or an accident gets in the way ohpleaseohpleaseohplease). But otherwise? It's happening. My life, my body, my habits, my entertainment, everything....everything is going to change. And I'm so fucking excited. I hope my expectations aren't too high. I know there will be lots more crying and frustration, and hard things and hurdles to overcome. I can't even predict what they might be...but I have a second chance at life. R and I can grow old together (*fingerscrossed*), and I may have just purchased my last bottle of fucking insulin. :D


Friday, February 14, 2014

Stress Eating

Yes, I am stress eating. I purchased a nice soft loaf of French bread Monday night to make sandwiches. I did make one turkey sandwich with it yesterday, but last night, and again now, I'm just having it plain with some unsalted butter. I ate a half of stick last night with a big hunk of bread, and I'll finish off the other chunk of butter with the last of the bread now. Excuse me while I pause to take a bite.

Where was I? Oh yes. My husband dragged me to the dollar store with him last night. He needed some props for a lecture today and he told me I should "get out of the house." I was dressed, including bra, so I had no reason not to go. Except I didn't know if I could resist the Mike & Ike's Tropical Typhoon flavored sugar fruit...logs. I love those things, and I'm not a big candy eater.

So instead I got some salted carmel chocolates. There were seven or eight in the bag and they were goddamn delicious. All seven or eight of them. Normally, and technically, I should not eat anything like this, athough once in a while does no harm. So I ate seven or eight too many.

But wait, there's more.

I also got a small bag of York peppermint patties. I haven't had those in years, literally. I ate the whole bag.

This is not about food, this is about stress. Eating like this is something I haven't done in years. I mean that. I indulge in a pastry or cake or ice cream once in a while....but to keep stuffing the shit in when I don't want it and don't have room (although my stomach no longer has the ability to tell me that it's full after years of yo-yo dieting that has messed up my metabolism, hence the need for surgery).

My FIL last weekend told me he thought surgery was "too drastic" after supporting me in this decision for years. I told him I was doing it to put diabetes into remission and that in Europe, they're doing this surgery on on non-obese people to put their diabetes into remission. They're not quite sure how it works. "Oh." He said. And DUH. He should know me well enough by now to know that I'm not doing this for looks. That's the last thing on my mind (athough I do have concerns with large areas of flappy skin later....we'll see.).

So what am I stressing about? I'm stressing over NOT having the surgery. That's what I'm stressing over. Leanne Bearden's body was found today, almost a month after she went missing. This story fascinated me because if I had had the ability to do what she and her husband did--travel around the world for several years--I would have done it. I wanted to, but my dad told me I had to go to community college so I could "stay on the insurance." Exhale.

This vibrant, incredible woman is dead, and I'm alive, and I'm trying to stay alive longer and healthier...and I guess I just don't feel that I deserve it. I've not bettered the world, made it a better place, found a cure for anything, and I just hibernate at home and bitch about bad service online. She deserved to live. The question is, do I?

I'm despairing. I'm going to try and step away from the obsession for a while. I'll be back when I have a firmer grip on my stress and this obsession.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Long Weekend

Yesterday was President's Day and as a teacher my husband had the day off. So we used that time to go see his parents in Orange County, CA. His dad has rapidly progressing ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease), and my husband wants to spend as much time with him as he can, and try to help him out. Eventually he won't be able to speak as the muscles in the throat and mouth fail. He has difficulty now--he sounds like he's drunk. It's so sad.

I spent Saturday with my mom--Thai food and then hung out at The Coffee Bean where I had a piece of lemon coconut cake. I've put on 3 lbs in the last two weeks.

I'm eating things I normally don't eat, because I feel like it will be my last opportunity for a long time. Also, I'd like to have some champagne soon because alcohol will be a no-no for two years post surgery along with soda or anything with bubbles--no partaking for two years.

It almost feels in a way like a going away on a long voyage--like to Mars or the Van Allen Belt--or I'm dying so I need to "live it up!" LOL  What other adage can I think of? "Make hay while the sun shines!" "Life is a banquet and some sons-of-bitches are starving to death..."

It's part of the pathology, isn't it? Food addiction. It's not like one can just quit eating--well, you can, but it's not sustainable over a lifetime--not like with other addictions like alcohol or drugs. One still must eat. In a way, this surgery is like not eating. Protein shakes will be heavily used as meal replacements, most particularly post-surgery and in the first six months to a year, and on into the future they will still make up a portion of my daily nutrition intake. I accept this. Without this surgery, as a diabetic, my risk of heart attack or stroke is triple the average person. My grandmother had her first (of three) heart attacks at 50.

Not only do I not want to endure the pain and suffering of a heart attack or stroke, but I want to live. My husband very much doesn't want to be a widower. We've been together ten years and our marriage is everything we both want it to be--it's the real deal. I want to spend more time with him. I want to travel, go for hikes in the wilderness, and hold down an honest-to-goodness real job. One that pays me every two weeks, has benefits, and will sometimes make me come home ready to pull my hair out. But I want to live. To truly, truly, fully live. And right now it's hard for me to do that.

But I can eat cake. OMG, I can eat cake. For now. The cake party is almost over. And THANK G*D!

Friday, February 7, 2014

Surgery for Better Health

So...I talked to a friend tonight about my surgery and about some of the unexpected costs I am suddenly facing. She said "Have a fundraiser." I paused. I didn't know if I wanted to have one--I had one two years ago in July to help pay for a month of COBRA so I could get treatment for cancer--treatment that I did received and for which I am now NED (no evidence of disease), and hope to remain that way *fingerscrossed*

So I told her..."I would feel like an asshole asking for more money."

"Are you kidding!?" she said. "There are people out there asking for money for boob jobs! This is about your health!"

That made a lot of sense.
So I started a fundraiser at  You can visit it here WLS Exenses Fundraiser. There are no fees associated with this fundraising site unlike other sites. All donations go directly to the person for whom funds are being raised.

I don't have high hopes of hitting my goal, but if you don't ask, then the answer is always 100% NO.

So here's where I am.

I need $3,000- to give to the surgeon--one week before surgery or it will be cancelled--to cover two years of aftercare after surgery. This is common in weight loss communities. One doctor I met with wanted $8000- and another group that is well-known wants $10,000-, so $3000- is very reasonable.

I have a friend I can borrow the money from...but I've borrowed from him twice in the last two years and I really hate to ask him again. He's been there for me time and time again, and I would really like to not have to ask him. Either that or my in-laws. I'd rather forgo the surgery than ask them for a dime. I don't know anyone else who could afford to loan me that kind of money.

Also, I thought I would be working on a big project right now--about $6000- worth of project, but the client decided the time wasn't right for them right now, so he's postponed the project. And now I discover I'll be having the surgery 5 hours away in Pasadena. I'll also need to stay in a hotel for a week or so post-surgery to get checked, and also pay for taxis, since I won't be able to drive. R will be with me throughout the surgery, but he has to go back to work the Tuesday after Surgery (it's on a Friday, March 14). My mom can stay with me, but she doesn't drive. She lives in Orange County, which, during traffic, can be a long way away, thus the hotel.

So there you have it. I'm not out trying to rip anybody off, buy new furniture, or take an exotic trip. I just want to get healthy so I can go back to work. Right now I'm not capable. I'm usually sick or feeling ill on a daily basis. I miss work, I miss being with people, I miss making money.

If you'd like to help me do that, I'll be forever grateful. But please, don't feel any obligation. I have no high expectations. It is what it is.

Thank you for taking the time to read to the end. I appreciate it!

If anyone wants to look at our monthly budget, just ask and I'll e-mail a copy to you. I keep it in a spreadsheet. I just don't feel comfortable putting it on the web, and my husband wouldn't like that either (and he's the breadwinner.)

Sunday, February 2, 2014

One More Stepping Stone in the Road

More goals on my path to weight loss (surgery) and better health have been met. I had an appointment with my regular doctor last Thursday, and in addition to my regular stuff going on (*ahem*), she is totally on board with the weight loss surgery. Hallelujah! In fact, she seemed excited.

I brought the notebook I'd been given from my surgeon's  office, and made a copy of the list of tests I needed run within thirty days of surgery, but received in my surgeon's office one week before surgery. I need a chest x-ray, EKG, and a buttload of labs in addition to a medical/surgery clearance from her. She asked me a bunch of questions about my heart and breathing, which I answered, honestly. I don't want there to be any "WTF" moments later because I left something out. Like during my last surgery, on my eye, I stopped breathing. Yeah, I told her. She asked about what kind of anesthesia was used, and I said I didn't know, but referred her to that particular doctor. She should have copies of all his records because he's really good about that and she has all my records from my previous doctor who had all my records. Like that.

She also asked me to come in on the third of March to go over the tests and I could stand and watch while she faxed them over. Is that nice, or what?

So my husband and I are trying to figure out logistics--the surgery is going to be in SoCal, at a really, really great hospital, but still, I need to get there, get R (my hubs) there, he's going to take Friday and Monday off--I need to check in the day before so I'll need to drive myself down, and get a hotel that night--there's a Motel 6 not too far away--and, before 3pm, I need to start cleaning out my bowels, so should be fun. ;p This will be after one day of liquids only, then the day before, clear liquids only, then bowel prep, then surgery on Friday, what time I don't know.

My husband will be there the whole time (I hope--I hope I'm released on Monday. UGH), because I'll need a ride to my mom's house in Orange County--where I plan to stay for a week post-surgery if it's required by the surgeon that I stay close. Otherwise I'm happy to come home.

Like I said, we're still working everything out.

Plus, there's the little matter of the $3,000- post-surgery aftercare costs. I have a friend I can borrow it from, but I really hate to borrow from him. I borrowed from him last year when we were having a really bad time of it and R's unemployment dropped to $53- a week with no warning.

I've sent out two quotes for work recently, the full amount for the two combined is over $13K, and if even part of one is accepted,, and they make a down's a lot of ifs.

But, we still have $1600- in our HSA for the year, so even if my friend did loan it to me, I could give him that back right away.

I'm turning it over to G*d, the Universe, Krishna, Bastet, whatever, a higher power, I'm putting it in their hands because if I try to micro-manage this and stress over it, I'm going to make myself sick AND crazy, so I'm letting it go. It is, what it is.

It may sound hard to do, but it is so, so easy. I can't do it...but I have faith in the rightness of things.

I also picked up some balloons (hard to find in winter!!) to start blowing up and stretching my lungs; vitamins--a multi /chewable; calcium citrate with D (I don't even know if this is right, I need to find out); along with the biotin and lutein (eye health) I already take. I'm making it a habit. I've also tried to walk more than usual (which is never *ahem*), and start lifting heavy cans of tomotoes or water to exercise and strengthen my arms for post-surgery. I feel it's going to happen; I want to be ready.

Jules, the Fightin' Irish!!!   Heh.